Sherlock Holmes and The Witch of Devon
by robbiej4444
Summary: When a 15 year old girl comes to Sherlock's house, nearly beaten to death; it is revealed that she is accused of being a witch, and the townspeople wish to have her burned at the stake. It is up to Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson to try and work out the truth about the supernatural events which were happening around town; if there is a natural explanation. Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

It was a Sunday morning and I wasn't at the very least happy when I woke up at four o'clock. I was cold as it was the beginning of December; and I failed to receive a healthy dose of sleep. I therefore went downstairs to the living room to drink a cup of coffee in hope that it would keep me awake. It was then when I heard the door knocking. Perhaps knocking was the wrong word to describe it. Whoever was knocking on the door was repeatedly knocking it at such a rate that it knock the entire door down.

'Who on earth is that, coming round at this time in the morning.' The voice I recognised as my dear friend Sherlock Holmes. 'Well go on then Watson, open the door.'

Slowly I opened the door. A wretched sight met my eyes. A girl, no older than fifteen stood there. Her clothes were little more than rags; her face was swollen and I could detect a black eye near her right cheek. Her hair was brown and long and I could see that she was not well cared for

'Good heavens,' I remember myself shouting as the girl collapsed into my arms.

'Take her into the living room,' Sherlock demanded.

I laid the girl on the chair that our clients would often sit on. I placed the cup of coffee that I was about to drink into her hands. It was such a pity that a girl so pretty that a girl this young would be in such a condition.

'Thank you,' the girl whispered as she felt the cup in her hands. 'I knew that I would be safe here; Sherlock Holmes.' She said this looking in my direction.

'Actually I'm Sherlock Holmes,' Holmes butted in. 'May I ask why you came here.'

'Holmes; this girl is on the brink of death, I hardly think she had come here for a case.'

'No, he is right. I do have a case,' the girl whispered. 'I tried to reach here but… but…'

'Do not start at the end my dear; start at the beginning; with your name and background first.'

'Very well,' the girl began. 'My name is Arianna Carter. I come all the way from Devon. My parents died when I was very young. To this day I don't remember a thing about them, not my life whilst they were alive.'

'You have no idea at all,' Sherlock remarked.

'I once hired a private detective to track down my family's history about a year ago. Apparently my parents were both tramps; struggling to find employment. According to the detective, they died when I was about three weeks old. What I can tell you after this is all truth.'

Holes remained silent as Arianna sipped the coffee she was given.

'I was taken in by a factory owner known as Angus Flemoy. He raised me up along with at least a hundred other girls. When I was seven I joined the factory as a worker. I worked there for eight years until I was fired.'

'May I as why you were fired?' Sherlock asked.

'The owner of the factory had this process of where he would hire children to be in his employment for a few years and then fire them. To this day I'm unsure why he does this. Sometime after I was fired I was found by a boy called Fredrick Barracks.'

I noted as she said the boy's name, her eyes sparkled.

'He was very nice to me. He gave me food, water, love. It was like a dream. For the next year, I was carefully looked after by Fredrick, he was so kind. This kindness happened until last week when something terrible happened.'

'And is this terrible thing the event that has brought you here,' Sherlock asked.

'Yes,' Arianna replied. 'I was with Fredrick, on the beach. I remember him saying how he'll take me away, to a nice country cottage, and we'll live happily ever after. He said he was going to make preparations on it as soon as he finishes school. Fredrick was also an orphan, but he was taken in by some charity that cares and educates them. At around seven o'clock in the evening, the terrible event that saw me here had started.'

Arianna stopped talking. She breathed in and out as if she had just ran a great distance.

'Fredrick died,' she said, bursting into tears. 'Fredrick entered his room and somehow drowned.'

'Excuse me my dear,' I began. 'But did you say drowned.'

'Yes Watson,' the girl replied. That struck me as strange as I did not believe that I introduced myself to her. 'Apparently he drowned; but the most remarkable thing of all was that the body was totally dry; and there was no water in the room. Well me being me I tried to forget these events and tried to live a normal life. However that changed the very next day.'

'What happened?' Sherlock asked. I could tell by his face that he was intrigued and excited about this new mystery.

'I was shopping for food when I was confronted by a gang ofpeople. I noted how they were all using pitchforks or lit torches. Leading them was a fifteen year old boy I only knew as Fredrick's next door neighbour; Dmitri Harris.'

Arianna began to cry again, only this time she refused to stop.

'He called me a witch; he somehow convinced the Townsfolk to believe that I was a witch. He told me that I should be burned at the stake like in medieval times. It was horrible. Well I went into hiding, but townsfolk all over the place kept on looking for me. However I managed to escape the town and boarded a train. This all happened today. I knew I had to speak with you Mr Holmes, I hoped that you could reason with these villagers and try and make them see sense. However just as I was approaching your door; somebody beaten me from behind.'

'Somebody beaten you,' Sherlock said in horror.

'Yes; I didn't see who it was, but I think the temptation was to leave me out for dead.'

'And you end up here, badly hurt in my house,' Sherlock said. 'Accused of being a witch and fearing that somebody would burn you to the stake '

'Correct Mr Holmes. Please I'm begging you, stop the townsfolk from killing me; I don't want to die as a witch.' With that she passed out.

'What do you think of that then Watson?' Sherlock asked.

'It appears as if Devon has gone mad,' I replied.

'That may be true, but the circumstances of Fredrick's death cannot be ignored.'

I nodded painfully. Logic states that one needs water to drown, yet how the body of someone who drowned was perfectly dry baffled me.

'I believe we should have a good think about this in a few hours' time Watson. I can tell just by listening to Arianna's words; that she knows something that she isn't telling us.'

Sherlock's last sentence baffled me. Surely Arianna cannot be hiding anything from us. She had given her account on what happened in such immense detail. However I must admit, I do not have the same mental capability as Holmes. Even if the person has lied about whether or not they slept with two pillows last night, Holmes would somehow catch them. However what confused me was what Arianna was hiding.


	2. Chapter 2

'Holmes,' I asked. 'What do you think that Arianna is hiding?'

'There are quite a number of things that I find suspicious,' Holmes remarked. 'She claimed that she used the services of a private detective to help her find her past for example. If she is telling us the truth, why didn't she ask him for help?'

'Well maybe he is involved in this witch hunt being organised,' I suggested.

'But the person Arianna claimed was running the witch hunters was a boy called Dmitri Harris; she did not mention any other people she knew who had joined the witch hunt. And since we were discussing the death of Fredrick Barracks; why did she not discuss about him in more detail?'

'Well we know enough to deduce that he was Arianna's best friend,' I interjected.

'She never did explain how far her feelings went for him though,' Sherlock said. 'She didn't even explain how she met this boy. By the look on her face, it looks like she loved him very much. And I suppose I don't need to remind you that she had called you by your name before you introduced yourself to her.'

'I suppose you are correct, but what do you think we can do. By the sound of things this witch hunters will stop at nothing to get her burnt alive.'

'Personally I'm interested in the individual who tried to kill Arianna before she got here. Lucky for her she arrived here when she did, otherwise she could have died.'

Whilst Holmes was thinking arranging train tickets to Devon; I was put in charge of treating Arianna. Fortunately I was able to treat the wounds before they became too serious. When Holmes returned he insisted that Arianna was to be taken to a hospital. As a doctor I made sure that we selected one of the higher quality establishments. We paid with our own money. After all for Holmes the idea of a mystery is enough payment for just about anything.

Eventually we caught a train to Devon. It was a long journey, and gave us enough time to plan out a course of action.

'First I want to speak with the factory owner, Angus Flemoy. I want to know the exact reasons to why she was fired. I also wish to understand his influence on the town a bit more. To be able to employ a large amount of girls, he must be a wealthy man.'

'From experience Holmes, I know that these factories are not exactly the healthiest places on earth,' I said. Even now on this train, I shuddered to think about the conditions of the place.

'I also wish to visit the private detective Arianna mentioned, as well as the boy who seems to be in charge of this witch hunt, Dmitri Harris.'

'You believe you can persuade them to stop this madness?' I asked.

'I have yet to see whether this is madness Watson,' Holmes said, looking totally sincere. 'I have a feeling that something terrible is going to happen, and I can't shake it off.'

Neither of us spoke again on that journey. I heard what Holmes had to say in absolute horror. A young girl is already being hunted down by a witch; how can things possibly get any worse. Unless Holmes seriously believed that the supernatural exists. But that would be extremely out of character.

When we eventually got off the train, we were just glad we could stand up. We've been on that train for hours, and I personally have forgotten what it was like to stand up. I got off the train and examined my surroundings. The station was relatively small with a few plants placed along the platforms for decoration. There was also a photograph of a woman, hung on the ticket house.

It was that picture which sent a chill down my spine. There was a knife, plunged onto the photograph; to be more precise on top of the woman's face. The ticket house was made of wood, and the knife stuck out perfectly on its wall. The man in charge of the place was young, I would say around the age of twenty. He was talking to an old lady who looked completely petrified.

'I do hope you have tickets for sale still young man,' the elderly woman spoke. 'I don't want to remain in this cursed place anymore.'

'I know exactly what you mean my dear,' the ticket manager said. He was blonde with a handsome face, along with blue deep eyes. 'I think you'll be alright if you don't go to London, I hear the witch went there.'

'Oh my goodness me,' the old lady shrieked. 'My sister lives in London I must telephone her.' With that the woman fled the scene screaming.

Quickly the ticket manager got out of the ticket house to follow her with no success. Eventually he walked back the way he came; and that was when he noticed the knife. Immediately the man screamed. He ran around the platform screeching in terror.

'Oh my good lord, what am I going to do now; the witch has left her curse on this train station.'

'Calm yourself man,' Holmes said. 'What is going on?'

'Well I can tell this isn't your hometown,' the ticket manager said.

'We know that a young girl is being suspected of being a witch,' I replied.

'Then what are you doing here?' the ticket manager asked.

'We wish to put a stop to the shenanigans which is going on here,' Sherlock said vigorously.

'Well I would love to speak to you; in fact I will, please help us burn that witch,' the man begged.

'What on earth are you talking about?' I asked, dreading the answer.

'That woman is our mayor,' the ticket manager said. 'And by the look of things she is going to die.'

'How,' Sherlock asked furiously.

Quickly the ticket manager got out a photograph out of his pocket. The picture showed what looked like a silhouette of a man, with weird shapes and lines all other his body. A triangle covered his bold head; rectangles and squares covered his chest, and I could tell by the photo that the human, if he was indeed human was had skin the colour of ash.

'His name is Scar,' the man said in terror. 'He isn't human. In greek mythology, he was sent to hell by the gods. And it appears as if the witch brought him back to earth.'

'That is completely ridiculous,' Holmes said softly, but firmly.

'It isn't ridiculous sir,' the man said. 'He leaves knives in photographs laid out in the open. If he does so, he will kill the person displayed in the photograph.'

'I take it you have seen this individual,' Holmes deducted.

'Three times sir. He murdered a factory owners son, a banker, and a member of parliament. I must warn the mayor; I can't let Scar kill her.' With that he was off.

'I must admit Watson,' Holmes began. 'I do not like what is going on here. First a boy who drowned, and second of all, a supernatural entity who appears to be motivated by murder.'

'I think we better talk to Angus Flemoy,' I said. 'I think we could do with a start on this case.'

'And quickly too,' Sherlock remarked. 'I have yet to meet this Dmitri Harris, but I assure you Watson that as soon as he realises who we are, he will work out where Arianna is, and in effect murder her. We better solve this case quickly before it is too late.'


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as we left the train station we sought out directions to Angus Flemoy's factory. I had my expectations of the factory's condition to be low. I have read an awful lot about accidents people had within factories. Fortunately it did not take us long to find the factory. It turned out that Angus Flemoy was well known throughout the town, and that his factory was not far away from the boy's orphanage.

The factory itself was a modern building. Based on the name, Flemoy cutlery; it did not take me long to work out what the factory was making. We knocked on the door, however we received no reply. We tried again, but still we had no reply.

'You won't be able to get in sir,' a man said.

Both I and Holmes turned around to face the man. He was small, large bodied and bald, with the exception of a small moustache.

'We have come to speak with the owner of this factory, Angus Flemoy,' Sherlock said.

'Well you're facing him face to face sir; I am Angus Flemoy himself.' He got out a hand and shook both mine and Holmes's right hand. 'Who have I got the pleasure of speaking to, may I ask?'

'My name is Sherlock Holmes,' Sherlock began. 'And this is my assistant, Dr John Watson.'

Angus Flemoy suddenly burst into his jolly voice again. I must admit when I first came here, I expected him to be an angry sort of fellow, always barking at his workers, and interested only in himself. But it appears that the real thing appears to be the exact opposite.

'I know who you two are now gentlemen; I have read all your works Dr Watson, and I must say that the girls here thoroughly enjoy them to.'

'That doesn't seem to stop you from giving them the boot though,' I said firmly. No matter how nice he seems to be, the truth is, that he did fire Arianna from her job.'

'Yes I did,' Angus said solemnly. 'We had financial difficulties in recent years Dr Watson. I had to fire some of the girls, purely because I could not afford to keep them.'

'But the factory appears to be operating now,' Holmes observed. 'Why did you not just reemploy her?'

'Well I did give her an offer. But by that time she was already with one of the boys at the orphanage.'

'Fredrick Barracks,' I exclaimed.

'That boy did seem to impress Arianna. My brother runs the orphanage in this town. He looks after the boys, I look after the girls, that pretty much how things work. Oh how easy it would be though if he didn't go and get himself killed.'

'You are referring to this absurd witch hunt Mr Flemoy?' Sherlock asked.

'Unfortunately yes Mr Holmes,' Angus replied. 'I would've taken the girl in, but it appears she had gone into hiding. All because of that Dmitri Harris I'm sure. Not that that detective helped matters.'

'Well where is this detective?' I asked.

'You'll find him at the orphanage. Just ask to see him; my brother is used to people seeing him so I'm sure he'll let you in.'

'Thank you Mr Flemoy for spending your time with us,' Sherlock said. 'Come now Watson; let us meet this private detective.'

The orphanage was about as large as the factory; only that there wasn't any continuous humming coming from the inside of the building. We were greeted by a woman, blonde with blue eyes. When we met the brother of Angus we were told that the woman was his wife.

'Her name is Mary Flemoy; my name is Reginald Flemoy.'

He was a lot thinner than is brother. Though he had no hair on the top of his head, he had a fair amount cothering the back and the sides. He also wore round moonlike spectacles. He gave me the impression of a vicar.

'My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this here is…'

'Dr Watson, I know.' Reginald chuckled quietly to himself. 'So you are the real Sherlock you say?'

'If you are accusing us to be frauds then I'm afraid that you are mistaken,' I said viciously.

'If you are the genuine article, then perhaps you would wish to speak to our own private detective. If you wish, he is upstairs in room thirty. Just don't go in room twenty nine. That was where this horrible incident took place.'

'The witch incident?' I questioned.

'Exactly; Dmitri seems to be in a completely angry mood as of late, and I don't think it would help him if you went into his former colleague's room.'

'Well thank you very much Reginald. We are investigating this witch business at the moment, and any help you can give us now would be most beneficial,' Holmes said.

'You are better off talking to the detective than me,' Reginald said. 'He conducted his own investigation before the police arrived, he would know than me.'

'Very well then, we shall see this detective,' Holmes announced, and together we went upstairs.

It occurred to me at this point, that the town must have a great deal of respect for these boys. After all, Dmitri Harris seemed to have convinced the entire town to believe that Arianna was a witch, and it appears that the carer of the boys seems to find intelligence In the private detective.

We reached room thirty of the orphanage and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' a voice came, which to me sounded surprisingly upper class.

We entered the room and instantly I could tell the character of the boy who lived here. The room was completely bare apart from a single bed and a window. Evidently he didn't seem to like having much of a world apart from his own.

'Welcome my friends,' the upper class voice came again. 'I am a star of the heavens, the pinnacle of all men, and the future of all mankind. My name is Sherlock Homes.'

Silence filled the room. The child who said those words was wearing a dinner jacket, had blonde hear and was wearing was carrying a magnifying glass. But it wasn't his appearance that astonished me. It was his name.

'Sherlock I don't think these men are here to listen to you boasting,' another boy said.

'Silence Watson, I am currently examining our guests.'

I didn't like the way he talked to us like we weren't in the room at all. But unless I heard wrongly it appears there is a child version of myself to. Both of them appear to be round the same age as Arianna.

'Are you claiming yourself to be Sherlock Holmes?' Sherlock asked, amusingly.

'Of course sir,' the young Sherlock replied.

'Don't lie Sherlock,' the young Watson argued back. 'Your parents named you after the man himself. Your surname doesn't even have an 'l' in.'

'I can tell that,' I said. 'We are the real Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson.'

My outburst must have shocked the two boys as the young Sherlock dropped his magnifying glass. I suppose it must be shocking to have just met a living legend who they were obviously inspired by.

'You are… the real Sherlock Holmes?' the young Watson asked.

'Of course dear child; I could see why Reginald was so amused by us coming here.'

'Well this is… shocking,' the young Sherlock said. 'But grand at the same time.'

Quickly he ran over to the young Watson. It appears as if the boy's personality was similar to his older self.

'Do you know what this means Watson?' he asked gleefully.

'I would hate to think,' Watson said.

'It appears that the Sherlock Holmes wants our help Watson. Just think of the publicity.'

'Ok now you're going back into one of those moods again,' the young Watson said.

'Don't worry about him gentlemen,' the young Sherlock said. 'He just lacks any passion for this business. May I ask what it is you are doing here?'


	4. Chapter 4

'We are investigating an incident concerning a witch,' Sherlock said. 'I am hoping that you could be of assistance to us.'

'And what do I get in return?' the young Sherlock asked.

'What do you get in return?' the young Watson asked in utter amazement. 'This is the Sherlock Holmes. Helping him could boost our careers.'

'I suppose you have a point,' young Sherlock muttered. 'Very well; what part of the witch incident do you want to know about?'

'From the beginning if you can,' Holmes said.

'Very well then; now listen carefully because this is going to get complicated.' Young Sherlock lifted up the pillow on his bed, and held in his had a toy pipe. Evidently his aspirations of being a detective go even as far as getting the image of Sherlock.

'There are two things you should know which are very important to this investigation,' young Sherlock began. 'One; the door to Fredrick's room is never unlocked, whether he is in or out. Second, the day Fredrick died, he returned at six o'clock. One hour before he was discovered.'

'So in other words,' young Watson said. 'Nobody could have entered the room. There was only one key to the room, and it is carried by Fredrick at all times. Also the window in the room does not open.'

'Maybe Fredrick came into the room with somebody else,' I suggested.

'That would be impossible,' young Sherlock said. 'Fredrick entered the building alone, I saw him, as did Reginald. Also the key was found inside the room in which he was killed.'

'Now do you understand?' young Watson asked. 'Even if you take out the fact that Fredrick died by drowning; how do you suspect the killer to have entered the room at all?'

'Unless the killer had supernatural powers,' young Sherlock added.

'So in conclusion,' Sherlock Holmes began. 'You made the conclusion that Arianna was a witch because under the conditions that you claimed; there is in your opinion, no conceivable way that Fredrick Barracks could have died without the supernatural being involved.'

'Well I didn't exactly point my finger at Arianna and call her a witch. When I gave out my conclusions out to the world; it was Dmitri, who thought that it was Arianna who was a witch, and it was he who used the townsfolk to attempt to murder Arianna Carter.'

'So what is your opinion about all of this?' I asked.

Silence crept into the room. It occurred to me that although the young Sherlock had so much in common with his older self, there is one big difference. Sherlock Homes seems to have no qualms at all about answering the puzzle with the solution of supernatural. Sherlock Holmes however would never jump to such conclusions.

'I believe Dmitri is right,' he said finally.

'I beg your pardon,' Holmes said.

'That girl has been with Fredrick for a long time. It makes perfect sense that she would inflict some sort of curse onto him.'

'And you have no qualms of having the girl burnt at the stake?' Holmes asked.

'If it stops all these other supernatural events then I will do everything I can Sherlock,' Homes said. 'I have a duty Mr Holmes, and I will do everything I can to bring that witch to justice.'

I could then sense something within Homes's mind. I could tell that he had thought of something that didn't occur to him before.

'Holmes,' Homes asked darkly. 'How did you come to know about the witch? I don't believe anything about the case was released to anyone outside Devon. Who asked you investigate this crime?'

I knew that Sherlock knew exactly who asked us to investigate. But if we were to admit that it was indeed Arianna who asked us to investigate; then Homes would have no hesitation in having someone pick up Arianna and bring her back to be burnt.

'I'm afraid you are wrong Sherlock Homes,' Sherlock said. 'The case was indeed published in a newspaper, and it has piqued my curiosity. And I promise you that if you were to go to 221B Bakerstreet then you would find that Arianna will not be there.'

I relaxed a bit deep inside. I knew that Sherlock was right. We made sure that she was safe within a hospital before we left for Devon.

'Very well,' Homes said. 'I being the gentleman I am, I will wish you success in your investigation. Dmitri is not here at the moment, but as soon as I see him I will try to tell him to call of his witch hunt; although I do not promise anything.'

Sherlock Holmes muttered a swift goodbye to Homes and left. I'm not surprised. I to could tell that Homes's last remark was merely a way of him trying to have superior wit than Holmes.

'Well what do you think of that Watson?' Sherlock asked. 'It appears as if we have met the next generation of great detectives.'

'That may be so Holmes, but right now; at the very least, Sherlock Homes is working against you.'

'That is true Watson. However a sudden thought just struck me.'

'What is it Sherlock?' I asked.

'Do we know anything about the victim, Fredrick Barracks?' he asked. 'We know that he was very close to Arianna, but otherwise we know nothing. Perhaps now we should investigate the room in which Fredrick died.'

'Holmes you can't,' I cried. 'Reginald told us to stay away from that room.'

'Well we are not going to get so far just talking to people are we,' Sherlock said.

'Well I suppose not,'

'Good Watson, now let's take a look at Fredrick's dormitory.'

Fredrick's dormitory was not too much more different than Homes's. In fact the only difference was that Fredrick had a desk with some drawers near the window. Like young Watson had said, it did not open, and there were no signs of cracks. The only reason why the door was even open was that somebody successfully rammed into it. I had thought for a moment that it could have been the real killer, but I digressed. The rammed door was most likely due to someone trying to access the room after the deed had taken place, otherwise Homes would have noticed.

'It appears as if the corpse is missing Watson,' Holmes deducted. 'It appears it was taken, either by Homes, Dmitri or the police. I say Watson is that the key over there?'

There was indeed a key next to one of the bed legs. The key was made out of metal and had the most unusual engravings.

'And this must be where the victim had died,' Holmes said. 'This chair here. You can tell that the wood here is slightly off colour at this part compared to the rest of it.'

'So the poor child died whilst working at his desk,' I deduced.

'Not working Watson, there isn't anything on top of this desk, and I can see that a large area of this desk had been soaked, rather than a particular portion. If he was working on something then only a particular portion of the desk would have been wet.'

He opened one of the drawers on the desk and picked out something from inside. It was a book, although it was locked inside some sort of cage. The cage of course was locked, we couldn't just take the book out.

'I believe Watson, that everything we need to know about the victim is in that book,' Holmes said.

'Maybe so Holmes but its locked.'

'All the more reason to investigate,' Holmes said. 'Fredrick must have some sort of secret that he wishes to keep to himself.'

'Yes Holmes, but I think you're forgetting. How are you going to get it out of the cage.'


	5. Chapter 5

'That key over there Watson; does it open the door, or the cage?'

'Are you insinuating that this key opens the cage instead of the door?' I asked.

'On the contrary Watson, that key opens the door. If it truly opened the cage then surely Homes would have noted it.'

I had a closer look at the cage. From my quick glance of the key on the floor, it was quite obvious that it did not fit. The lock on the key was custom made, and looked nothing like a traditional lock.

'We must find that key immediately Watson, if we are to discover the contents of this book,' Holmes said.

'That's all very well Sherlock but where are we to find this key?'

'Think about this Watson, if the body was taken by either the police or Sherlock Homes, it would doubtlessly be searched. If he was to have the key on him then surely whoever has taken the body would have managed to take the key and unlock the door.'

I must admit that Sherlock's logic was correct but it did disturb me on one detail. If the key wasn't taken from the scene, then the key must be in a totally different location. What secret could Fredrick possibly keep that he would need this much security.

'I think I know exactly where that key may be Watson,' Sherlock deducted. 'I think we better go back to London.'

Did not need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that Fredrick must have trusted Arianna with the key. It would also explain why no one was able to find it. After all if Sherlock was right, then it would be quite the train journey back.

By luck, the route we have chosen took us towards the town hall. There was a busy crowd surrounding the place. Police officers were trying to hold off a gang of people who looked like they were part of a mob.

'Bad times are coming gentlemen,' a voice came, directed to us.

The boy speaking to us had long hair, which seems to be a cross between brown and blonde. When he turned round to face us, I saw no comfort in his eyes.

'I take it that you are Dmitri Harris,' Sherlock said.

'That is my name sirs. I am the leader of this tribe of justice here. The tribe; which will burn Arianna to death.'

Some of the mob's members must have been listening, because as soon as Dmitri had finished speaking, at least three of them cheered in delight.

'Usually I would ask for your names as well,' Dmitri continued. 'However I already know who you are Sherlock Holmes.' He spoke with such arrogance that he could have been ten years older than his true age.

'How do you know who we are?' Holmes asked bluntly.

'The prophecy foretold that you would come,' Dmitri replied. 'You'll be surprised what things have happened here Holmes, since that witch came to be.'

'I take it this is the work of the murderer who calls himself Scar,' Holmes said.

'Of course it was,' Dmitri bellowed. 'It appears you have already deduced what has happened here.'

I suddenly remembered what we have seen and heard at the train station when we arrived. Apparently there was a supernatural entity around murdering people as he pleased. And his next target was the mayor.

'Surely it was your job to protect her,' Sherlock shouted angrily towards Dmitri. 'If you want Arianna killed so badly, why didn't you protect the mayor?'

'I have no time for protection that is the job for the police. I just care about burning her alive. But first I will have fun with her.' Dmitri smiled darkly. 'I'll beat her up, I will shave off all her hair, take out her eyes, make her pay for what she did to Barracks.'

'You will do no such thing,' Sherlock bellowed. It is very rarely when I see him this angry, especially towards a child.

'Say what you want Mr Holmes; you won't change my mind.'

With that, He had left to attend to the mob. I saw him pick up a stone and through it with all his might at one of the policemen. Fortunately he missed, but I have never seen a child so angry and so bloodthirsty.

'Well Watson, I have managed to confirm one thing from our conversation with Dmitri.'

I was astonished. Not just about what Holmes had discovered, but also how he could call our argument with Dmitri Harris a conversation.

'Let's say for the sake of argument that Arianna was a witch. Dmitri Harris made it perfectly clear that he wants Arianna burnt at the stake. This caused Arianna to go into hiding, she caught the next train she could to London in order to keep safe. However by the time she got to Bakerstreet, somebody had tried to beat her to death.'

'Well that makes sense to me Holmes,' I had said, seconds before I realised what was strange about Holmes's hypothesis.

'If Dmitri wanted her burnt at the stake, then surely he would have convinced his fellow mob members to want to do the same thing,' I deduced.

'Therefore, why was Arianna beaten? Surely if somebody found her, and had the courage to confront her, then surely she should have been on her way back to Devon, and we would be none the wiser about this witch business. Somebody wants her dead Watson; and for a motive other than being a witch.'


	6. Chapter 6

We ordered a ticket back to London, and took the train immediately. I noticed that on the way to the station, Holmes kept on looking behind him. I wondered whether we were being followed. Despite being in this town for merely two hours, I suppose I cannot rule out the possibility of somebody following us. If young Sherlock, young Watson or even Dmitri believes we have Arianna then they will try and work out where she is.

The train journey was long and I tried to work out the possibilities on how Fredrick's murder could have happened. It wasn't the fact that he was dead that bothered me, but rather the fact that way that he died. If he was poisoned then it would be perfectly reasonable that he should die with the door locked. But the fact that he drowned in a room which as far as we knew, contained no water. I hate to sound so negative; but I am starting to lose hope over the way this murder came to be without the supernatural being involved.

I could tell that Holmes was searching for a solution inside his incredible intellect as well. I was glad to hear the brakes on the train which indicated to me we were back in London. As soon as we exited the station we called a cab at once. If somebody followed Arianna from here to Bakerstreet, then it is entirely possible that somebody is here even now.

Fortunately I was assured by Holmes that everyone who was at the station was no longer in sight by the time we reached halfway.

'Ah, there's the hospital Watson,' Sherlock called.

The cab stopped immediately. Holmes quickly told him not to wait and carry on with his work. I was not surprised, as I doubted Holmes didn't want to take any risks.

'Oh you're here again,' Arianna said when we saw her.

'How are you doing?' I asked

'Better thanks doctor,' Arianna replied politely.

'Arianna,' Holmes began sternly. 'I need to ask you two very important questions, which I need answering honestly. Do you understand?'

'Yes I do,' Arianna replied.

'First question; do you have any idea why the person who attacked you, did so?'

'I don't know the exact reasoning behind it,' Arianna started. 'But I have a feeling that whoever it was, was trying to kill me.'

I had to admit to myself that that statement was certainly not helpful. After all considering that the girl was nearly dead when she was on our doorstep, I would have thought the fact that the attacker was trying to kill her was blatantly obvious.

'My second question,' Holmes continued. 'Do you have the key which goes with this?'

Holmes lifted up the cage containing the book inside. It was evident that Arianna had seen the book before as she opened her mouth in shock.

'That's Fredrick's diary,' she exclaimed. 'That is where he writes all his secrets down. All of them.'

'But do you have the key?' Holmes pestered.

'Here,' Arianna said, holding up a small key.

Holmes took it from Arianna's hand, and inserted it into the lock. The key turned and the cage released. I grabbed the book and opened it. It appeared as if the boy had only written some of the pages. I will transfer the contents of these pages onto the document you will be reading now.

_December 1__st__. This year will be the best Christmas ever. I may have had my ethical doubts when I first started working here, but by Christmas day, I'll be rich. I will have more money than my entire family earned for the past seven generations. Gone will be the poverty that many a boy like me had endured. Gone will that hole in the wall be for my home. In its place I'll have a nice country cottage, a maid, some chickens, and I'll never work again. I will just live off the land, and live a lazy life._

_December 9__th__.Yes the money, the money is here. At last I have it. It is in its own little safe in the company's treasury. Of course the amount of money I have earned from this was nothing compared to how much my master has; but I am not going to complain. Considering how much I was given was enough to show his generosity. I wanted to escape to the country right now, but my master has told me not to act too soon. I suppose it is only natural, considering the amount of money we are talking about here._

_December 25__th__: I cannot believe it. Somehow the police worked out exactly who we were. Apparently the true heir has arrived and told the police that he suspected us to be frauds. The police invaded our office and took our money. I am to be sent to some orphanage. Curse the law; I was going to be rich if it wasn't for them. At least I am not being sent back to a factory. At least I should be grateful._

_February 21__st__: Well this is a surprise. The heir I mentioned earlier. I found it. I have found the heir that is the true owner. I have a plan in motion now. I have a plan to take revenge against the person who took away my fortune._

I merely looked at the pages in horror. Arianna talked about Fredrick as if he was a knight in shining armour. However this diary makes him out to be completely selfish child who cares about money. But still, this diary doesn't tell us a whole lot on its own. But what it does say was that Fredrick Barracks had at least one enemy. Could it have been that one enemy that had ended that child's life?


End file.
